


Pigs

by anticentristpropaganda



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Crime, LGBT, M/M, Murder, Romance, can you tell we just read the tell tale heart in english class, first person POV, its murder baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 06:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26468410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anticentristpropaganda/pseuds/anticentristpropaganda
Summary: Authright's not crazy. He's saner than most. Most days when he looks around, it seems as if everyone's eyes are glossed over with complacency, cheering on western civilization crumbling before their eyes. He feels... awake. Hopefully he can convince you of that.Ancom and Authright go frog-catching in the woods. Authright has other intentions.
Relationships: AuthRight/Ancom, authright/libleft, opposite unity - Relationship
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	Pigs

**Author's Note:**

> it's called "Pigs" cause of the tyler the creator song

I'm not crazy. I'm saner than most. Most days when I look around, it seems as if everyone's eyes are glossed over with complacency, cheering on western civilization crumbling before their eyes. I feel... awake. Hopefully I can convince you of that.

Ancom was... a threat. A threat to life as we know it. Globalization, gay marriage, astray from all of my values... Normally I could put up with it. It was when he put me under his trance I knew I had to rid of him.

"Yaknow Nazi, I always thought you were like, a total prick and all. But you inviting me to go frog-catching? Totally cool. Sorry I misjudged you, I guess." Ancom could never shut up, dammit. He was so naive. Frog-catching? Look me in the fucking eyes and tell me you'd like to go frog-catching.

I just smiled and nodded. "Yup."

Miles upon miles of trees surrounded us, their shadows lengthening. Haunting wind blowing through their scarce branches, dotted with red leaves. It seemed like we wouldn't reach the river for miles, but something was telling me to hold on.

"So, you come to these woods often?" I smirked.

"Actually, this is my first time here! I go to a lot of neighboring woods, but never these ones. I don't know why you picked one so far away-"

My focus dipped in and out of reality as Ancom blabbered on, never stopping to move his hands. I looked down at mine. Calloused, bruised hands hugged by thick black leather. I gave the air a squeeze, tightening the glove. Ancom's hands were a different chapter of my same story. Bony hands, white and purple at the knuckles, with delicate lines tracing his palms, making this task ever so more difficult. If he knew what was good for him, he would have burned them off. Like me.

Ancom quietly grabbed my gloved hand while he were walking, and I said nothing. I nervously glanced over at him, his eyes wandering to everything around us but me. I had never done this before.

I didn't know what kind of black magic this sick fuck did on me. Maybe I should've asked EsoFash. But he made me... feel something. Disgusting, I know. What kind of brainwashing it must have took for him to make me love my ideological opposite, for someone so strong and powerful to care for something so weak and pathetic. I got rid of the weak and pathetic. That's my whole schtick. So you can imagine how frustrated I was.

"Soo.... This is okay?" he asked with a smirk.

"Shut up, tard." I didn't want to be reminded I was holding hands with the anarchist. Gross.

I took a deep breath in, experiencing the smell of rotting garbage and salt. The river was close by. 

I checked my back pocket to make sure my knife was there. It was. A beautiful thing, with an engraved leather handle and curved blade. I pulled it out to examine it.

"What do you have that for, Authright?"

"Oh don't worry," I reassured him, "Just in case we get hungry, I'll cook us a fish!"

That was all he needed to know.

The bubbling river finally appeared, just as the sun was about to disappear over the horizon. 

"Thank God!" Ancom cheered.

"Looks like we're here," I smiled. 

A nervous panic came over me. I couldn't kill anyone! I was a pathetic excuse of a man who couldn't even take out a fucking anarchist. Who fell in love with the anarchist...

No. I had to do this. 

Ancom squatted by the river, dipping his hand into the cold water. "The first thing I do when frog catching is finding a big leaf to hold them on!" he smiled. I entertained him by grabbing a leaf. 

He trotted over to me, laying his head in my lap. "Authright, how is it that you like me like this?" he giggled.

"I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you," I smiled softly. He laughed. "You're ridiculous."

"I know," I smiled, tucking a short piece of his hair behind his ear. His hair was incredibly soft, I noticed. I never got to touch it until then. All I could think about, though, was how guilty I felt. This gnawing in the pit of my stomach, begging me not to kill him. I knew I was going to, though. My anxiety and guilt would always take over. Guilt for loving him, that is. 

Again I fiddled with the knife. A wave of impulsivity took over me. Right now. I had to do it right now.

"Ancom..." I whispered.

"What?" he smiled, a hint of concern in his voice. Brown leaves crunched under the weight of his body as he fidgeted in my lap. 

"I love you." I pulled him up to sit upright, pulling him close to my body. He felt so warm against the chilled air. He blushed, pink creeping up against his cheeks and the tips of his ears. "I love you too." I leaned in and kissed him, warmth exploding in my chest. I frowned at the thought I wouldn't get this again. I didn't have to, but I needed to for my own sake.

I sunk the knife into his back.

I pulled away from the kiss when I started to taste his blood in my mouth. He stared into my eyes, betrayed, before slumping into my arms. His eyes glossed over.

"Ancom," I stifled a sob, before crying into his chest. "I'm sorry."

I kissed him again. I held him in a death grip, trying to feel the last of his warmth. The whole forest had gone eerily silent, the birds stopped singing and grasshoppers stopped chirping. They were all mourning him, their brother. How kind he had been to them. "I'm sorry too," I cried. 

I pulled him off of me. I would need to clean the body before I let him go. 

I started by cutting off his fingertips one-by-one. This was the first step in making the body un-identifiable. Then his beautiful, silky hair. Then his teeth.

I was used to dealing with dead bodies. But something about Ancom's was so... repulsive. These fingertips were just minutes ago grazing my stomach. That hair was minutes ago in my clutches. It now lay at a disgusting pile at my feet, reeking of shame.

I dragged what remained of Ancom's body to the river. I slipped the rosary he wore off his neck and around mine. "Goodbye, love," I whispered, giving him a peck on the cheek. His still eyes stared at my forehead, pulling his face into a demented shape. Like a rotting pumpkin.

I pushed him into the river after filling his hoodie with rocks and watched him slowly sink as he moved with the current. I hoped the fish would love him as much as I did. 

I hope you can draw from this my motives. How perfectly and precisely I committed the deed, and with what loving care I sent him away in. Right now, as I am sitting where his body sank, I feel at peace.


End file.
